


Even Emperors Make Mistakes

by Gwynne



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Contains some quotes from the text., Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:47:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his experience with Vordrozda, Gregor has to mend some fences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Emperors Make Mistakes

Even emperors make mistakes. And even emperors have to apologise for their mistakes.  
Sometimes it’s easy.  
Gregor's right hand moved hesitantly to touch the shoulder of his first and most loyal protector. "I serve Barrayar," he offered. "Its justice is my duty. I never meant to dispense injustice."  
"You were ring-led, boy," Count Vorkosigan muttered, to Gregor's ear alone. "Never mind. But learn from it."  
And, so simply, the rift between them was gone.  
Miles knelt, head bowed, and spread his arms. "Your will, my liege."  
Gregor shook his head. "May I always endure such treason as that." He looked at the small figure in front of him as the discussions went on. Childhood memories whirled around him. He was looking at Vorthalia the Loyal, gamely stumbling beside Dorca the Just through a hundred adventures of their escapades. Of course, most of the adventures were planned by his own small Vorthalia, who would bravely rescue his emperor from some impending peril or assist him in an attack on their enemies. And most of those adventures ended with both of them, and Ivan too, crashing into some epic disaster.  
But this time he’d crashed into an epic disaster without their help. And once again his Vorthalia had come along to save him.  
The tension in the room grew as Gregor watched his Prime Minister kneel to an old enemy and beg for his son’s life. Gregor knew part of the story, he doubted that anyone but the two men in front of him knew the whole of it. And he’d set them on this path again, one proud man begging another. He felt sick at the thought of what he’d done.  
Finally it was all over, solutions presented by Aral and Miles, Gregor had nothing to do but agree and be grateful that it was all over. Aral looked calm, which meant he was immensely relieved and delighted with the way things turned out. Vorhalas looked grim, which meant that he reluctantly accepted the result. Henri Vorvolk looked serious, which meant that he was wishing he was somewhere else. Ivan looked confused, which meant that he was confused.  
And Miles radiated pure delight, which meant that he was getting his heart’s desire. As they all rose and headed back to the Council, Gregor edged beside Miles. He leant down a little and murmured, “Miles… I’m sorry.”  
Miles grinned at him, still blitzed with joy at the thought of his future in the military, “Gregor, it’s fine. It’s all worked out – I’m going to the Academy!”  
Yes, that was easy too.  
But some apologies aren’t easy at all. Some apologies are gut-wrenching. And even emperors still have to face them.  
Gregor waited for a full day, trying to get the words straight in his head. He knew that this had to be done in person, a comconsole was unthinkable. And he couldn’t send a summons to report to the Residence. He had to go there, in person, and try to find the words to beg for forgiveness. He had to tear his heart open.  
Impsec protested at the Emperor changing his carefully organised day, and jumping into a groundcar for an unplanned trip. Impsec were politely told what they could do with their protests. The emperor required this.  
Aral was busy in his office at the Residence, having meetings with all those who were groveling to gain his favour again. And enjoying himself immensely as he watched their antics. Miles was off on the road to his military career, Gregor hoped he survived the Academy. And vice versa.  
He’d made his apologies, and mended his fences with them. There was one more.  
She was alone.  
Gregor tried not to look nervous as the armsman ushered him through the great front doors.  
“The Countess is in the Library, sire.”  
Was it his imagination, or was there a slight chill in that calm voice? The armsmen had watched the whole horrible episode unfold. They’d probably wondered if they’d be called on to choose between their liege lord and their Emperor. Gregor didn’t want to know what decision they’d make. He still had nightmares about a small figure chained in the Great Square, and what Aral’s response might have been. Fight or flight? Either way would have been catastrophic.  
So many people had been in bitter torment over his mistakes.  
And now he had to face the one who’d been hurt the worst. Torn between all of them. He stepped into the library.  
She was waiting, sitting on a low couch, looking serious and troubled.  
Gregor stepped forward and took a deep breath, ready to start the speech he’d agonized over for hours. “Ma’am, I…”  
Cordelia looked up at him, “Gregor….my poor boy.”  
She held out her arms.  
Emperors can’t…  
Gregor knelt beside her and buried his face in her shoulder, the words tumbling out, “Aunt Cordelia, I’m so so sorry. It was never meant to happen that way, I never thought…I’m so sorry.”  
“I know, dearest. You’ve had a horrible time.”  
He leaned back to look up at her, “I caused it, it’s all my fault!”  
She stroked his hair, “It was only to be expected, you’d had so many people telling you what to do, then suddenly you were the one doing the telling. We tried to prepare you, but in the end everyone has to learn from their own mistakes, even emperors.”  
“Emperors make bigger mistakes.”  
“And suffer more, too.”  
Gregor’s voice was bitter, “I wasn’t the only one who suffered. Aral… he was in hell.”  
“He’s been there before. He’ll get over it.”  
“And you were torn between us.”  
“I could see you both hurting so much. But I had to let it play out, we were all trapped in the events, and the rules. Barrayar!”  
Hearing that familiar, exasperated tone brought a flicker of a smile.  
Then Gregor frowned again, “And Miles…”  
Cordelia waved the thought away, “Miles was having a wonderful time. Then he came back in a blaze of glory at just the right moment and saved the day. And THEN he went off to the Academy. Miles suffered less than anyone else.”  
“He must think that I… that I don’t trust him.”  
“Miles is as calmly reliable as a ferret hyped on jungle juice. Trusting Miles is like walking on thin ice, it’s just a matter of time before things get messy and difficult.”  
Gregor attempted a smile, “But exciting.”  
Cordelia stroked his hair the way she used to when he was so much younger, and his problems didn’t involve quite so much death, “Excitement is sometimes over-rated. Around Miles, anyway. Now, how are you, really?”  
Gregor did manage a grin this time, at the familiar sound of Betan therapy approaching. “I’m a lot better than I was half an hour ago.”  
“Vordrozda?”  
“I – I’ve been thinking about him, I can see things differently now. He played me beautifully, he knew just how to key in to all my – my faults. My weaknesses and insecurities. And my impatience with…”  
“…with all the old men telling you what to do?”  
He nodded reluctantly.  
“Good. Now you know what to beware of. You won’t fall for that trap again.”  
“How many more traps are out there?”  
Cordelia shook her head, “A lifetime’s worth. But next time you’ll have a strategy ready to deal with the fallout.”  
“So…it’s all over?”  
It was Cordelia’s turn to smile, “Not quite. You have one more apology to make.”  
“Simon? I’ve already spoken to him.” Well, he’d tried. He’d got as far as, “Simon, I…” when Illyan nodded and then briskly launched into the latest situation report. A wonderfully subtle way to make him feel even worse – an emperor doesn’t have to justify his actions, right or wrong. But he’d received an official request for an increase in Impsec funding, to cover the cost of modernizing and improving the cells. He’d signed it immediately. Simon knew how to play the victim card for maximum advantage.  
“Not Simon.” Cordelia tried to suppress a remarkably evil grin.  
“Ohhh right, Ivan. I’ll have to talk to him…”  
The grin wasn’t easily suppressed. “No, not Ivan. Worse. Gregor, you have to apologise to Alys, for putting her beloved chick in danger.”  
Gregor moaned.  
“Think of it as your final penance.”  
“Until next time.”  
“Then think of it as good practice for next time.”  
“That’s meant to be comforting?”  
“Isn’t it?”  
“Not noticeably.”  
They sat in easy silence for a while. Finally Gregor stirred, “Aunt Cordelia… I wish…”  
“I know, dearest. So do I.”  
Even Emperors make mistakes. The good ones learn from them.


End file.
